


Coma

by MaryS (Duffydog)



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:26:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28989939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duffydog/pseuds/MaryS
Summary: A random accident leads to several life-changing decisions.
Relationships: Chakotay/Kathryn Janeway, Chakotay/Seven of Nine
Comments: 10
Kudos: 37





	Coma

Disclaimer: Still Paramount’s or its successors

Rating: G

Notes: Many thanks to Erestorandfin for her beta and in particular, for catching one obvious error.  
This story was originally written some years ago but never posted; it has been sitting quietly on my hard drive since some time in 2012 or thereabouts.

Written c. 2012, revised Dec. 2020

The man lay against the wall of a building, still and silent in the aftermath of the screeching collision between two hovercars. He had been walking slowly down the street, his thoughts elsewhere, and therefore was completely unprepared when a large piece of metal slammed into his back, knocking him hard against the wall beside him. In the darkness, away from the accident which was drawing everyone’s attention, his body lay unnoticed for some time.

Drawn by the noise of the collision, the onlooker had ambled out of a nearby bar, curious to see what all the racket was about. His head fuzzy from the effects of too much cheap alcohol – the real stuff, not synthehol – he actually tripped over the unconscious man before he realized he was there.

Shaking his head to clear it, the onlooker assumed this was simply someone who’d passed out, not an uncommon sight in this part of town, but then he took another look as he noticed something peculiar about the man’s position. Bending closer, he realized two things – the man was not drunk but unconscious, and one side of his forehead was covered with some kind of facial marking.

“Hey!” he shouted tipsily, “Over here! This man needs help!”

But in the uproar of emergency sirens as well as the shriek of metal twisting under intense pressure, no one heard his call for help. For a minute, the onlooker debated whether he should leave the man in order to find some assistance. Another yell was equally unproductive. Deciding he wasn’t doing the man any good as it was, he leaned down to pat his shoulder, before straightening up again. “Don’t worry, buddy,” he muttered, “I’ll find someone. You just stay right here.”

However, it was nearly ten minutes before he was able to locate anyone willing to listen long enough to understand what he was saying. Leading the way back to where he thought the man was lying, he found only empty space. 

The paramedic beside him scoffed. “Listen, man, I have to get back over there!” He nodded behind him. “Those hovercars landed on a whole bunch of people. There’s a lot of folks hurt and needing help.”

“Wait! Wait!” cried the onlooker, unwilling to let go of the paramedic just yet. “Maybe…maybe it wasn’t this building, maybe it was that one! Yeah, over there! Come on!”

Gripping the paramedic’s sleeve, he began to drag him across the road to the opposite side, stumbling several times as he went.

“Yeah, and maybe there isn’t anyone there, either!” retorted the paramedic, jerking his arm out of the onlooker’s grasp. “You’re drunk, man!”

“Maybe I am,” declared the onlooker with dignity, “but I know what I saw. Please! Just come across the street!”

“Very well,” agreed the paramedic, “but if no one’s there, I’m going back.”

Despite the onlooker’s conviction that the injured man he’d found must be there, no one was lying anywhere along the wall for over a hundred meters. His shoulders slumped in defeat, the onlooker turned to face the paramedic. “I don’t understand. He was here, knocked out cold…! Where could he have gone?!”

“Maybe he wasn’t as badly hurt as you thought, and he just got up and walked away,” replied the paramedic, starting to move away.

The onlooker made no further attempt to stop him, instead staring around dejectedly. “Yeah, maybe he did.”

Relieved that the onlooker appeared ready to let him go, the paramedic patted him on the arm. “You did your best, friend,” he consoled him, “don’t worry about it. My guess is he’s fine now. Why don’t you head on home yourself? You’ll feel better in the morning.”

“Yeah, okay, thanks for coming with me,” answered the onlooker. “Goodnight,” he called as he turned up the street, walking more steadily now as he began to sober up.

The paramedic, dashing back to the scene of the accident, didn’t answer.

Across the street, Chakotay lay in a small, recessed doorway hidden in deep, black shadow. Barely conscious, pain wrapping around him in an ever-increasing spiral, he was finding it increasingly difficult to figure out how to get help. His communicator had disappeared, most likely falling off his shirt when he’d been knocked to the ground. And just now, he’d been so exhausted from the effort of dragging himself to safety that he’d been unable to call loudly enough to attract the attention of the two men nearby. 

As their footsteps receded into silence, he felt himself once more slipping into unconsciousness and resigned himself to the fact that there was nothing he could do.

*****

Seven of Nine paced through the quarters assigned her by Starfleet. Although unwilling to admit to anxiety, she was becoming increasingly concerned as the hours passed with no sign of Chakotay. He’d promised to join her for dinner tonight, to celebrate the one-month anniversary of their first date. In the small dining area, the table lay set, ready for the evening meal, now long past.

Where was he? Why hadn’t he contacted her to let her know he’d be late? 

Back and forth, back and forth she strode, becoming more and more agitated until her attention was caught by the sound of a door slamming. But it was only the person next door, obviously just come home. 

_‘This is a waste of energy!’_ she thought, going to the communications terminal. _‘Just call him up and find out where he is.’_

However, every effort to reach him met with failure. Wherever he was, he hadn’t taken a communicator. 

After another hour had passed with still no word, in desperation she reluctantly attempted to contact the admiral. Her hesitation was based mostly on the fact that deep down, she suspected Janeway harboured far stronger feelings for her former first officer than she’d ever let on. On Voyager, in the initial throes of her first love affair, Seven had conveniently ignored the captain’s hurt expression, which had briefly appeared at the sight of her protégée and Chakotay huddling together. Once back in the Alpha Quadrant, she had tried to pretend that it had been a figment of her imagination, but she knew better. She was certain she had hurt Janeway – deeply – and as a result, she wasn’t sure how welcome the sight of her face would be. But, she told herself, for Chakotay’s sake, she had to put her reluctance aside and ask for help.

However, she soon discovered that the easy access she had always enjoyed to Captain Janeway was a thing of the past. As befitted her position, Admiral Janeway had various security measures in place, which precluded anyone not previously approved from speaking directly to her. Despite all Seven’s protestations, the computer continued to inform her that the admiral was unavailable and could only be reached through Headquarters. The best she could do was to leave a message and hope the admiral would check her inbox soon.

Becoming frantic, she tried to find the contact number for Tom Paris and B’Elanna Torres. However, all she could remember was that they were staying with Tom’s parents for the time being, and she had no more luck getting through to Admiral Paris than she’d had with Admiral Janeway. Again, she recorded a brief message outlining her concerns.

Finally, in desperation, she contacted the doctor at the holographic lab on Jupiter Station. When he answered her hail, she nearly burst into tears with relief. “Doctor,” she began without preamble, “I cannot find Chakotay! He has disappeared and despite repeated attempts, I have been unable to locate him!”

Checking his auditory subroutines to make sure he was hearing her correctly, the doctor asked her to repeat what she’d just said. By the time she did so, he was able to respond more helpfully. “Have you tried contacting the cap…uh, admiral? Maybe she knows where he is.”

“Yes, but I am unable to speak to her. Her security program does not recognize me!” Her voice vibrated slightly as she fought to control the unexpected fear crawling up her throat. “Chakotay is not answering his communicator and he should have arrived here in my quarters three hours ago for dinner.”

The doctor shrugged. “I’m sorry, Seven, I don’t know what else to suggest. You’ll just have to wait until tomorrow to speak to her.” He smiled sympathetically. “Why don’t you go and regenerate for a few hours? I wouldn’t fret, I’m sure there’s some good reason why Chakotay got delayed and he’s just forgotten to call you. Good night. Jupiter Station out.”

Attempting to take the doctor’s advice, Seven cleared up the uneaten dinner before stepping into the regeneration alcove which had been brought from Voyager. However, her worried brain refused to allow her to settle into the familiar cycle. Within minutes, she was out and pacing again, back and forth, through the apartment.

*****

Dawn was breaking before a passerby discovered Chakotay lying nearly dead in the doorway, and quickly summoned help. Very soon after, he was taken to the nearest emergency clinic, which was full to overflowing with those injured from the collision. 

As he lay on a biobed, his heartbeat fading to almost nothing, the doctor in charge shouted for 20ccs. of inoprovalene. A second later, a nurse handed him a hypospray, then scanned Chakotay as the doctor administered the stimulant.

“No change,” she announced. “We’re losing him.”

“Rig up an electro cardiostimulator,” he ordered. “Hurry!” 

In less than a minute, the stimulator was attached to Chakotay’s chest as the nurse administered an electric shock. When there was no change, the doctor ordered her to increase the intensity and do it again. Finally, on the third attempt, with the stimulator at dangerously high levels, Chakotay inhaled once, before beginning to breathe in small, shallow breaths. 

“Let’s give him another 20cc.s of inoprovalene,” ordered the doctor, applying the hypospray to Chakotay’s neck again. “There – that’s stabilizing him.”

Letting out a sigh of relief, he patted his patient’s hand. “You’re a very lucky man, mister.” Turning to the nurse, he instructed her to monitor the man carefully until they were sure he was out of danger. 

“What about his other injuries?” asked the nurse.

“What are they?”

“Swelling in the cerebellum, indicating soft-tissue damage,” she began, consulting the tricorder as she went down the list. “Severe concussion, contusions covering his back, a deep gash right between the shoulder blades, the cut on his forehead which you can see, plus assorted scrapes and bruises.”

“Hmm,” muttered the doctor unhappily. “I don’t like that swelling in his brain. We’ll need to place him in an artificial coma until it goes down and we can get a better idea of how much actual damage there is. It may just be bruising, after all. Oh, and nurse? Get a sample of his DNA and forward it to the authorities. They should be able to figure out his identity soon enough.”

“Yes, Doctor,” replied the nurse obediently.

At that moment, several loud yells from outside the small room where Chakotay lay, caught their attention. Turning quickly to the door, the doctor was gone in a flash. 

Moving to stand beside the biobed, the nurse gazed down at her patient, her fingers absently tracing the strange marking on his face. _‘I wonder who he is,’_ ran through her mind before she got down to the business of trying to keep him alive.

*****

Early the following morning, after being awake all night, Seven finally received a call from Tom Paris. 

By then, she had progressed through various emotional states to the point where she was sitting in a chair, numb with fatigue, lost in a gray fog of despair. She had never before experienced so many powerful, uncomfortable feelings and was at the point where she was almost ready to request the doctor to reactivate her failsafe device. How anyone could function while in the grip of such misery, she didn’t know. It took several beeps of her communications terminal just to get her attention.

“Seven!” exclaimed Tom in relief. “I was beginning to think you weren’t there! Now, what’s all this about Chakotay?”

Her face was a cloud of misery as she tried to explain in the fewest possible words her fear that something dreadful must have happened to him.

Tom was sympathetic but not nearly as concerned as she had expected. “You know, Seven, I think you’re overreacting. Give him a day; if he hasn’t shown up by tonight, then start worrying. He’s a big boy – he can take care of himself.” A sudden thought struck him. “He might have gone on a vision quest or something. He has no concept of the passage of time when he’s in a trance.” 

Brought up short by Tom’s suggestion, Seven caught her breath. Of course! She should have thought of that. Trying to smile, she replied. “You’re right. I hadn’t considered that possibility; it is a very plausible explanation. Thank you, Tom, I will stop worrying.”

“You do that, Seven. And if you haven’t heard anything by tonight, let me know. This is our comm code, so you can reach B’Elanna or me directly.” A series of numbers and letters flashed on the screen.

“Again, thank you. I will call you as soon as I have news. Seven out.”

Breaking the connection, she glanced at her chronometer and realized she would have no time to regenerate. Her first meeting of the day with the engineering team studying nanoprobes, was scheduled to begin in less than an hour. 

*****

Although no longer in immediate danger, Chakotay’s condition remained grave enough that the doctor in charge of the emergency clinic was loathe to move him. As the swelling had hardly diminished at all, the patient, tagged J. Doe for the time being, remained in the artificial coma. 

As well, the doctor and nurse had both taken a personal interest in this vaguely familiar stranger with the unusual marking on his face. As they explained to each other while grabbing a quick meal together, each felt they should recognize him but neither had the faintest idea from where. 

By evening, the swelling had gone down a little more, and his condition had stabilized enough that he could be safely transported to a proper hospital. 

“There’s nothing more we can do for him here,” advised the doctor. “Since we haven’t received any information yet about who he is, send him to the acute care ward at Harbourview. And tell them we have forwarded a DNA sample to the Central Records Office.” He scowled, puzzled. “It’s odd they haven’t contacted us yet. Maybe he’s from one of the border colonies – the records there were destroyed during the war; they might be having trouble making a connection.”

“Yes, Doctor,” replied the nurse, turning away to make the necessary arrangements. “Shall I ask them to notify us if they discover his identity?”

The doctor shrugged. “If you like. It’s not important, I was just curious.”

Nodding, the nurse moved to place a combadge and PADD containing the patient’s particulars on his chest, then informed the hospital he was ready for transport. 

Seconds later, the bed was empty, and the nurse was pulling off the sheets.

*****

In the meantime, as evening fell with still no sign of Chakotay, Voyager’s former crew began to worry in earnest. 

Unable to dismiss Seven’s concerns any longer, Tom’s face was serious now as he tried again to contact Kathryn Janeway. He had successfully reached most of the senior staff except Tuvok, who was still secluded on Vulcan undergoing medical treatment for his neurological condition. The captain – admiral, he corrected himself – however, was proving to be singularly elusive. 

Seven had called him around noon to relay a message from Janeway’s office to the effect that the admiral was incommunicado for the next few days and not to be disturbed under any circumstances. In vain, Seven had tried to explain to the formidable lieutenant facing her on the screen that this was an emergency, possibly a life and death situation. 

Looking down her nose at Seven, the lieutenant had replied that she had her orders and was not about to disobey them for anyone.

Seven was not easily intimidated, but she had to admit to Tom that she had been quite daunted by the lieutenant’s attitude. “I am unsure what else to do,” she continued, her voice wavering despite herself. “And I have another meeting in just a few minutes. It is with the admiral in charge of the Borg project, so I must attend.”

“Don’t worry, Seven, let me see what I can find out,” he reassured her. “I’ll contact you later. Paris out.” 

However, neither Tom nor his father had any more success with Janeway’s aide. She was following specific orders, she declared, her voice resolute. The only additional information she could give them was that Janeway was away on emergency personal leave and had left strict instructions she was not to be contacted unless the Federation was in imminent danger of invasion.

It was B’Elanna who made the connection. “You don’t suppose,” she began slowly, thinking out loud, “that she and Chakotay are actually having a romantic rendezvous somewhere, do you?”

Both Paris males stared at her in astonishment. 

“You know, B’Elanna, actually that makes a lot of sense,” remarked Owen. “I should have thought of it myself.”

Tom was less convinced. “I don’t know, Dad, somehow it doesn’t seem to be her style, or his, for that matter. And yet,” he shrugged, “I don’t know what else to suggest.”

“Think about it, Tom.” B’Elanna was getting into her argument. “We know he was in love with her for years. Maybe this ‘thing’ with Seven was just a fling, and now he’s decided who he really wants to be with.”

“Seven doesn’t think it’s just a ‘thing’.” Tom was definite on that point. “And you know, it’s not like Chakotay to sneak away like that without saying something to her.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” she conceded. “He’s too nice.” She remained silent for several seconds, her face screwed up in concentration, before suddenly grinning at him in exultation. “But…suppose he and the captain met sometime yesterday, quite by accident, and one thing led to another. They discovered they still loved each other and got carried away by their mutual passion…. What?!” She stopped at the sight of Tom’s face. “You don’t think so?”

Grinning, he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her. “I think you’re indulging your romantic side,” he teased.

Pushing him away forcefully, she snarled, “I’ll have you know I don’t have a romantic side!

“Sure you don’t,” he agreed easily, adding in an aside to his amused father. “I wonder who owns all those Klingon romance novels I found tucked away under Miral’s clean diapers.”

“Tom Paris!” roared B’Elanna, blushing furiously as Owen burst into howls of laughter.

“Well?” asked Tom, refusing to back down. “If they’re not yours, whose are they? I don’t think they’re the sort of thing Mom cares for.”

Subsiding into the nearest chair, B’Elanna scowled. “All right, enough! I’ll admit they’re mine. But,” she continued, sitting up straighter, “I still think you’ll eventually find out the captain and Chakotay are together right now. And for whatever reason, he hasn’t contacted Seven.”

But Tom remained unconvinced. 

Some time later, while discussing the matter with the EMH, he suddenly had a brainstorm. “Maybe we should be checking the hospitals,” he declared. “I mean, what if he had an accident or something, and couldn’t tell anyone who he was?”

The doctor’s face screwed up as he thought through the idea. “I suppose it is possible, although standard procedure in the event of a patient unable to communicate is to transmit a sample of DNA to the Federation Central Records Office.” 

Tom began to interrupt, but the doctor cut him off. “And before you ask, all queries to them remain confidential, so it won’t do any good to contact them. However,” he added, as Tom’s face fell, “contacting local hospitals is a good idea.” He pressed several keys, activating a list of local medical facilities. “You take the first half of the list, I’ll deal with the second.”

“Agreed. Paris out.”

At once, Tom got to work but all his efforts were to no avail. “You know, B’Elanna, it’s ridiculous,” he told her just before dinner. “I mean, in this day and age, how can someone just disappear like that?”

“Quite easily, if they want to,” she replied knowingly.

“Hmm, well, maybe your idea is the right one. Nothing else seems to fit. I guess I should call Seven.”

“Wait until after dinner,” advised B’Elanna. “There’ll be time enough then to call her and I’d like to be able to enjoy our mealtime with Miral without more useless speculating.”

“Fair enough, I’ll contact her later.” 

However, after dinner, just as he was about to get up from the table, the communications terminal signaled an incoming message. Hurrying into the study, he sat down and activated the screen. 

A harried nurse glanced up at him from her desk. “Mr. Paris, is it?”

“Yes, I’m Tom Paris.”

“This is Harbourview Medical. You were inquiring earlier about whether we might have admitted a….” she paused, studying her records, “a Commander Chakotay…earlier today. Is that correct?”

“Yes! Is he there? Do you have him?”

“We’ve just received an unidentified patient from an emergency clinic downtown. Apparently, he was injured in the hovercar collision last night. From his description, it could well be your friend. Could you come to make a positive identification?”

“Absolutely! I’ll be right there! Paris out.” Leaping to his feet, Tom dashed out of the study, shouting for B’Elanna. Quickly, he related what the hospital had told him. “I’m going down there right now!”

“I’m coming with you!” she declared, handing Miral to her grandmother, who had come out to the hall to see what all the noise was about.

One look at B’Elanna’s face told Tom there was no point in arguing. “Very well, but we have to go now! We’ll call you as soon as we know,” he added to his mother. “Tell Dad, will you?”

“Yes, of course, dear,” replied his bewildered mother, holding the baby tightly. 

Grabbing B’Elanna’s hand, Tom led her back to the study and opened a door at the back of the room, where a small one-pad transporter was located. Setting the coordinates, he stepped onto the pad, then nodded for her to energize. 

Quickly, she reset the controls for auto-transport, before stepping onto the pad herself. In a moment, she had dematerialized as well.

Tom was waiting to one side of the main door of the hospital when B’Elanna rematerialized. 

Together, they walked quickly inside to find themselves in front of the information desk. 

“I’m Tom Paris, and this is my wife,” announced Tom to the woman sitting there. “We were just contacted to come and identify a patient who was recently admitted.”

“Oh yes,” replied the woman, shuffling several PADDs. “Yes. Go to the tenth floor, acute care. The nurses there will help you.”

“Thanks.”

Hurrying, they made their way to the bank of turbolifts, which moments later, deposited them on the tenth floor. This time, Tom spotted the nurse he’d spoken to and made his way directly to her.

“Mr. Paris!” she exclaimed, “That was fast indeed!” Her eye fell on B’Elanna and she scowled in disapproval. “I can’t allow anyone else….”

B’Elanna took one step forward. “That may well be my best friend you have here,” she snarled. “You _will_ allow…!”

For a moment, the nurse seemed unwilling to back down until B’Elanna gave her the Klingon version of the Janeway glare, at which point she rapidly agreed. 

“You did that very well,” whispered Tom sotto voce. “The captain would be proud of you.” 

Scowling, B’Elanna tried to ignore him, as she followed the nurse down the hall to a room containing four beds. Her face tense with fear, she pushed her way past the woman, quickly checking the occupants of each bed until her eyes came to rest on the one nearest the window. Fingers digging into Tom’s arm, she dragged him forward. “Oh god, Tom, it’s Chakotay!”

Together, they stood beside the bed, hands gripped tightly together as they stared down at the unconscious man lying there.

The nurse moved forward to stand beside them. “Is this your friend?” she asked.

“Yes,” replied Tom. “His name is Chakotay.”

Picking up a PADD from the foot of the bed, the nurse quickly ran her eye over it. “As I explained earlier, apparently, he was injured in the hovercar collision last night but wasn’t found until early this morning. The physician at the emergency clinic where he was taken placed him in an artificial coma. The admitting doctor here concurred that it would be best to keep him in it for a while longer.”

Stretching out a hand, B’Elanna gently stroked the lines of the tattoo, more evident now on Chakotay’s face, which was noticeably paler than normal. “How bad is he? Is he going to die?” she whispered.

The nurse’s reply was blunt. “I honestly don’t know. Right now, his condition is stable but the physician at the clinic noted that they nearly lost him when he was first admitted.” She paused, before adding. “Do you know of any family we should contact?”

“We’re his family,” explained Tom. “Us as well as the crew. His people were all murdered by the Cardassians years ago, and later his adopted family, the Maquis, were massacred by the Dominion. He doesn’t have anyone but us now.”

The nurse’s face cleared in sudden comprehension. “Voyager!” she exclaimed softly. “You’re from Voyager’s crew!” 

“Yes.”

She started to hurry towards the door before stopping suddenly and turning back to face them. “What did you say his name is?”

“Chakotay,” replied B’Elanna proudly. “Commander Chakotay of the starship Voyager.”

*****

With the return of the nurse, Tom went out to contact Seven. He debated whether to ask B’Elanna if she wanted to go home, but one look at her face convinced him it would be a useless question. So, after he’d spoken to Seven, he called his mother, who assured him that Miral was fine and they could stay at the hospital for a couple of hours until it was time for her next feeding.

By the time he finished that conversation, he could see Seven hurrying towards him from the nearest public transporter, so he waited for her.

“Tom!” she called out somewhat breathlessly, as soon as she saw him. “How is he?”

He couldn’t lie to her – besides, she’d see for herself soon enough. “Not great, Seven, but he’s alive. Apparently, he nearly died right after they found him this morning.”

Although she gasped in horror, she didn’t waste breath talking, instead dashing inside at a quick jog.

Realizing he was going to be left behind, Tom hurried to catch up with her, steering her to the turbolifts.

When they arrived on the tenth floor, he led her to Chakotay’s room, then stood back to let her go in first. From behind, he could see B’Elanna seated on the far side of the bed.

Despite her previous rush, Seven’s steps were slow and hesitant as she crossed the room, her eyes glued to her lover’s face. “Is…” she gulped and started again, “How is he?”

B’Elanna glanced up. “He’s alive,” she declared bluntly. “Beyond that, I don’t know. Apparently, the doctors found it necessary to put him in an artificial coma, although, since I’m not immediate family, they won’t tell me why. I’ve been talking to him, but he doesn’t respond at all. Maybe if you try….”

Leaning over the bed, Seven clasped one of Chakotay’s hands between her own. “Chakotay,” she called softly. “Can you hear me? If you can, try to move your fingers.” 

They all watched, but the hand remained motionless.

“Keep talking,” advised Tom. “I’ve heard that even when there’s no response, sometimes the person can hear you.” As he spoke, he grabbed another chair and placed it for Seven to sit down.

“I have been very worried about you,” continued Seven, seating herself, “a feeling which I find most uncomfortable! Chakotay, you have to come back to me, to us. You must not die.” Her voice grew in intensity. “Do you hear me?! You must not!”

From where she sat, B’Elanna noticed tears falling from Seven’s cheeks onto Chakotay’s hand, which she continued to clasp tightly. And even though she had never really liked the ex-Borg, at this moment, she could find it in her heart to feel sorry for her. On impulse, she reached across the bed. “He’s a fighter, Seven, he won’t die.”

When the other looked up, B’Elanna added with a grim smile, “We won’t let him!”

Her shoulders relaxing slightly, Seven nodded. “No, we won’t.”

*****

Hour after hour, Seven sat beside Chakotay’s bed, sometimes talking to him, sometimes simply holding his hand.

For the first two hours, Tom and B’Elanna stayed with her, but as Miral’s feeding time drew near, they had to leave.

Seven assured them she would be fine, and they didn’t need to come back until morning. “If there is any change,” she promised, “I’ll tell the nurse to contact you immediately.”

Grim-faced, B’Elanna nodded. “See that you do.”

Occasionally, one of the other patients made some kind of sound, and every half-hour, a nurse appeared, but up to midnight, there was silence. 

After that, however, Chakotay began to groan.

At first, Seven and the nurse thought he was regaining consciousness, but although he twisted around slightly in the bed, muttering incomprehensibly, his eyes didn’t open. 

Worried that he was coming out of the coma too soon, the nurse immediately called for a doctor. 

After careful examination, he adjusted the medication, saying that the swelling, while reduced in size, was still too large to be able to get a clear picture of the brain. Therefore, the patient would need to remain in a coma for some time yet.

Silence reigned for another few hours, but by early dawn, Chakotay was restless again. As well, he had begun to cry out one word over and over. “Kathryn!”

Desperately, Seven tried to calm him, talking nonstop, keeping her voice smooth and calm, but all her efforts proved useless.

Chakotay wanted Kathryn and no one else.

At her wits’ end, she analyzed her options before concluding there were none. If she could, she would bring Janeway to him; indeed, she would give her place to the admiral if only he would stop crying so frantically. But as long as Janeway remained out of reach….

Not knowing what else to do, she called to the nurse that she was going outside briefly in order to contact a friend and explain the situation.

“Tell me what I can do,” she begged Tom after his sleepy voice responded to her fourth hail. “Tom, please! Can you help me?”

In all the years he’d known her, Tom Paris had never heard Seven show fear but there was no doubt she was frightened now. 

“Let me ask my dad,” he replied, his sleep-fogged brain unable to come up with any other suggestion. “Can you wait a minute?”

“Yes, of course.”

Impatiently, Seven paced up and down the sidewalk in the darkness, the streetlight reflecting off her wet cheeks. 

Finally, her communicator beeped. “My dad says there is a way to reach the admiral, but it’s tricky and there’s no guarantee of success. However, he’s trying now.”

“Shall I wait some more?” asked Seven.

“No, it may take a while. Go on back to Chakotay – you shouldn’t leave him too long anyway. I’m getting dressed now, so I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Thank you,” she murmured. “Seven out.”

Clutching the communicator, she made her way back into the hospital and up to Chakotay’s room. “Any change?” she asked the nurse.

The woman shook her head. “No, but he’s called several more times for this ‘Kathryn’. Who is she? His wife?”

“No, his best friend,” replied Seven, her heart sinking, adding to herself, _‘and the woman he loves.’_

Seating herself once more, she took hold of Chakotay’s hand. “Tom is trying to find Kathryn, Chakotay. Try and be patient.”

His only answer was another low moan. “Kathryn….”

*****

Shortly after Seven’s return to Chakotay’s side, Tom hurried into the room. When his eyes fell on her, it occurred to him that she looked in even worse shape than he did. Her eyes were puffy and there were dark circles under them, her nose was red, and her hair untidy. As well, her clothes were creased – it was obvious she had been wearing them for at least twenty-four hours.

“How are you holding up, Seven?” he asked softly

Lifting her head, she gazed up at him sadly. “I’m all right, but Chakotay’s condition is not good. The doctor has been called but he has not yet appeared. If only we could reach the admiral, surely she would come….” Her face crumpled. “She’s the one he wants, not me. I don’t think he ever really wanted me.”

Tom couldn’t deny it. “You must understand, Seven, he fell in love with her a long time ago. And while in the last year or so, it seemed they’d drifted apart, especially after we were all abducted to Quarra, maybe deep down, his feelings haven’t changed.”

“I love him so much,” whispered Seven. “But if he loves the admiral more than me, then he should be with her.”

Tom stared at her in some surprise. “That’s very noble of you, Seven.”

Swallowing hard, she returned his stare evenly. “It is logical.”

“One thing I’ve learned,” replied Tom, “is that love is _never_ logical.” As he spoke, he reached to cover her hand, clasping it tightly as Chakotay moaned again.

*****

When the doctor finally appeared twenty minutes later, he decided not to place Chakotay in the artificial coma again. “He’s come out of it twice now,” he reasoned, “which would indicate that it might be holding him back. The human brain is still very much a mystery, but we do know that sometimes it can heal itself, if left alone. Far be it from me to delay his recovery.” He placed the cortical monitor back on his forehead. “Don’t worry, we’ll be keeping a close eye on him.”

As he started to head for the door, he turned to ask, “By the way, who is this ‘Kathryn’ he keeps calling for?”

Before either Tom or Seven could answer, footsteps were heard just outside in the hall. A moment later, the door opened to admit Kathryn Janeway. 

Since the doctor was directly in her path, she didn’t see Tom or Seven for several seconds. Looking up, she announced in the voice of authority they’d heard so many times over the course of seven years.

“I’m Kathryn Janeway. I’ve been told Commander Chakotay is gravely ill….” Her voice trailed off as the doctor stepped aside, indicating the bed. 

At once, she walked forward, her eyes rapidly taking in the two watchers before they focused on the man in the bed. For a moment, her face visibly paled, and she let out a soft gasp of horror before bringing her emotions under iron control as she stepped up to his side.

Again, Chakotay moaned, his voice cracking slightly as he twisted uncomfortably. “Kathryn.”

Leaning forward, she reached out to touch his face, murmuring gently, “I’m here, Chakotay, it’s all right. I’m here.”

Heaving a great sigh, he sank back into the pillows, his body relaxing as if, with Kathryn’s arrival, he could rest.

Behind Kathryn, Seven rose and turned to walk out the door, her head high. 

Tom watched her go with admiration, before turning back to look at Chakotay. “I think he’s fallen asleep,” he remarked, leaning over to peer into his face.

Settling into Seven’s chair, Kathryn gripped Chakotay’s hand tightly, then looked at Tom. “Tell me what happened.”

Pausing to collect his thoughts, Tom sat back himself, then began to relate the story of the last twenty-four hours. When he’d finished, he stared at her. “How did they reach you in the end? And where were you, anyway? No one could pry anything out of that aide of yours.”

Heaving a sigh, Kathryn replied, “Two days ago, my sister called me urgently. My mother had suffered a massive stroke a day earlier, but no one found her for over twelve hours. It was only by chance that a neighbour decided to drop in on his way into town and discovered her sitting motionless in the kitchen. She was conscious but completely unable to move.

“The local hospital contacted Phoebe as next of kin, and she immediately called me. With all the fuss there’s been since we came back, I didn’t want the press hovering over me in that kind of situation, so I instructed Goschalk not to tell anyone where I was. I guess she took my orders more literally than I realized. I only wanted to keep the media away.”

“So I’m guessing my dad found you somehow?” asked Tom. “He said he thought there was a way, but I didn’t wait to hear what it was.”

Kathryn chuckled ruefully. “Oh, he found a way all right! When he couldn’t browbeat Goschalk into revealing my whereabouts, he woke up Nechayev in the middle of the night and told her to do it.”

Tom’s mouth fell open. “The C-in-C?! He ordered Admiral Nechayev….?! Well, I’ll be damned! So, what happened?”

“Obviously, it worked, since I received an emergency message an hour ago to call Admiral Paris immediately.” She gave him a sardonic glance. “I was sitting at my mother’s bedside at the time. Now I’m sitting here at Chakotay’s. I must say,” she sighed, “I’m getting very tired of hospitals.”

“Is your mother going to recover?” Tom sincerely hoped so – he remembered, as a little boy, how much he’d liked Gretchen Janeway, even although he’d only met her a few times.

“Probably not entirely. There is some irreparable neural damage, caused by the fact that she went untreated for so long. But she’s quite lucid most of the time, and her short-term memory is starting to come back. Whether she’ll ever walk again, we don’t know.” Sighing, she turned back to look at Chakotay. Subconsciously, her fingers slid over his face, caressing his cheeks before wandering up to trace his tattoo.

Very quietly, Tom got to his feet. “I’ll be back in a while,” he murmured, although he wasn’t sure she heard him. 

Her attention was concentrated solely on the man sleeping peacefully before her.

*****

Hours passed, Tom went home for a while, returning in the early morning to find Kathryn still sitting in the same chair, her eyes drooping slightly but still focused on the man before her, her hand still clutching his like a lifeline. Obviously, she hadn’t moved all night. 

Three times, Tom called her name but she gave no sign of hearing him until he reached out to touch her shoulder. Then her head snapped up and she stared at him almost dazedly.

“Captain – I mean Admiral,” he stumbled, “how is he? And how are you?”

Her voice was raspy with exhaustion. “I guess he’s better although for a while, it was touch and go. Twice during the night, his heart stopped and he had to be resuscitated. However, the doctors seem hopeful he’ll recover although they’re not sure yet if there might be some residual damage.” She sighed wearily, rubbing her hand over her face. “He’s got a long road ahead of him, that I do know. And he’s going to need help and lots of it.”

Pulling up a chair, Tom sat down beside her, then peered into her face. “And what about you?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” she replied automatically.

“Well, you don’t look fine,” retorted Tom bluntly. “Why don’t you go stretch your legs, maybe find something to eat? I’ll stay with him.”

Kathryn began to refuse but the look on his face told her he wasn’t going to take ‘no’ for an answer. “Very well,” she conceded, pushing herself out of the chair. “I guess I could use a cup of coffee. And I should call my sister.”

Tom rolled his eyes. “Eat some real food with that coffee, will you?”

Her chin came up and she tried to glare at him, albeit without much success. “Now you’re giving _me_ orders?”

Staring right back, he nodded. “Yes. Go. Eat.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” she answered with a slight smile before turning to walk out the door. 

Grateful she hadn’t put up more of an argument, Tom settled back in the chair. Since access to the diagnostic panel was restricted to authorized medical personnel, he couldn’t examine Chakotay’s readings, but simply looking at the man indicated he was sleeping naturally. As well, his face had lost its grey look and was now a more natural colour. 

“You’re one lucky bastard, old man,” he muttered half under his breath. “And if things go as I hope, you’re going to get even luckier. I don’t think anyone is going to be able to pry the captain away from your side anytime soon.”

*****

Half an hour later, Kathryn returned, also looking better for some exercise and a meal. Her eyes were bright and Tom could see the old, familiar swing to her step.

“How’s your mom doing?” he asked out of politeness, although it was obvious from Janeway’s demeanour that all was well in that quarter.

“Quite a bit better, actually,” replied Kathryn. “Phoebe tells me the new physiotherapy program she’s started is already working wonders. The doctors are hopeful now that she might even be able to walk again, maybe not without assistance but nevertheless, that’s a lot more than they were saying a few days ago.

“That’s great news!” exclaimed Tom in delight. 

Kathryn’s eyes were focusing on Chakotay, lying so still. “Has anything happened while I’ve been out?”

“Nooo,” Tom answered a little hesitantly. “I thought once he was coming around but it didn’t happen.”

She nodded thoughtfully, her mind obviously working through an idea, before she glanced up to meet his eyes. “Maybe while you’re here, I’ll go see if I can contact the EMH. I’d like him to act as a consultant, a kind of overseer, for Chakotay. We need to have someone we can trust in charge of his recovery program.”

At Tom’s nod, she headed out the door, returning a few minutes later wearing a smile of accomplishment. He didn’t even need to ask whether she’d been successful, although he couldn’t help wondering how many medical personnel she’d manipulated or run over to achieve her goal. 

“The EMH will be along shortly,” she announced with a satisfied tone.

Tom couldn’t resist asking, “Did you have much trouble?”

“Certainly not,” she replied haughtily, although with a distinct twinkle in her eye, “at least not once I’d explained the situation.”

“Explained or ordered?” inquired Tom, curiosity making him push her into a more detailed explanation.

Kathryn opened her mouth to answer but was interrupted by a soft moan from Chakotay. 

As one, she and Tom turned to gaze at him.

“Chakotay?” she spoke softly, “can you hear me?” Reaching out, she took his hand firmly. “Squeeze my fingers.”

For a moment, he lay still, his eyelids twitching, then abruptly his fingers gripped hers hard.

“Chakotay!” she exclaimed in sudden joy. “Do it again. Let me know you’re awake.”

Again, his long tanned fingers clenched around her smaller hand and he moaned softly.

“Good, Chakotay, that’s very good. Now can you open your eyes?”

“Easy, Captain,” interjected Tom, “don’t push him. Let him respond at his own pace.”

Kathryn nodded. “Yes, I know, it’s only…. For a while last night, I believed he wouldn’t make it, that he’d die.” She glanced up at Tom with eyes that were suspiciously bright. “I need to know he’s conscious and aware that we’re here, I need him to know that he’s not alone.” Her voice broke slightly on the last words and with her free hand, she covered her mouth, forcing back the emotions that threatened to overwhelm her.

Without thinking, Tom moved forward to put his arm around her shoulder, just as so many times she’d done for him when he’d been at the helm on Voyager. 

For a few seconds, she leaned into his grasp before straightening up, her feelings once more under control. 

Neither said a word, neither needed to. Both understood that even here, she was still the captain, still with a persona to maintain. Of all Voyager’s crew, only the man lying on the bed before them had ever seen her as simply Kathryn.

Stepping back, Tom gave her some space. 

At that moment, Chakotay groaned again, regaining their attention. 

“Captain, look!” exclaimed Tom softly. “I think he’s trying to open his eyes!”

“Yes!” she agreed eagerly. “Come on, Chakotay! Wake up!”

Very slowly, Chakotay’s eyes eased open a little way before he squinted. Obviously, the light was bothering him. 

Leaning over him, Kathryn blocked the brightness. “That’s it,” she encouraged him, “try again. Look at me.”

Responding automatically to the familiar voice of authority, Chakotay’s eyes opened a little further. “Ka – Kathryn?” he whispered, his voice hoarse from disuse.

“Yes!”

“Where…? What hap – happened?”

“You were struck by debris from a collision of two hovercars,” she explained briefly, “you’ve been unconscious for several days.”

His face twisted in a scowl. “I…remember… Something hit me… from behind…. Then…then I was trying to move…to get away….” Wearied by the effort of trying to recall events, his voice faded away.

“Don’t try to talk,” she told him softly, her voice warm with affection. “You’re going to be all right.”

However, despite his exhaustion, he opened his mouth to speak again. “You’ll stay?” He asked, his eyes hopeful yet wary that she would refuse.

Quickly she nodded, anxious to reassure him. “I’m not leaving you, Chakotay. Not now.” She took a deep breath. “Not ever.”

“Good,” was his simple reply as his eyes drifted closed again.

Letting out a small sigh of relief, Kathryn sat back down in her chair again, automatically reaching for Chakotay’s hand.

A slight smile slipped across his face as he slept.

At the door, Tom turned to gaze on them both. _‘Yes,’_ he thought, _‘they’ll be okay now. Both are where they should be – together.’_ Breathing a sigh of relief, he headed for the turbolift to call B’Elanna, then Seven.

*****

Two days later, Chakotay, now on the road to recovery, was anxious to be discharged. “I’m fine,” he kept repeating, “my headache is gone and while – ”

Kathryn cut him off. “You’re _not_ fine,” she declared firmly, “so just get any ideas about leaving out of your head until the doctor here says you can go. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he conceded reluctantly, recognizing the voice of authority.

Beside her, the doctor tried unsuccessfully to hide a grin. The admiral could be very determined, as he had already discovered. 

“Well?” asked Chakotay, one eyebrow raised.

“Your condition has improved considerably,” began the doctor, “however, I would like to keep you here for at least another twenty-four hours to ensure the swelling in your brain has indeed disappeared, and also to give your back more time to heal.”

Chakotay scowled but remained silent.

“However, if the improvement you’ve shown so far continues, I see no reason why you can’t be discharged tomorrow. But,” he emphasized, “only because your EMH has indicated he will be overseeing your recovery. If he declares that you must return to hospital, you will do so. Without argument.”

Relaxing on to his pillows, Chakotay was quick to agree.

“Now,” finished the doctor, “I assume arrangements have been made for your care.”

Before he could ask, Kathryn interrupted. “He will be staying with me, Doctor.”

“Ah yes, very good. That will be quite satisfactory. I will see you early in the morning then, for a final check-up.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” said Kathryn, as he left the room.

“Uh, Kathryn, you don’t need….” Chakotay got no further.

“Yes, I do, so don’t bother arguing because the plan is already in place. You are coming home with me and there you will stay until our doctor says you’re free to leave. If you want to,” she added nonchalantly, busying herself with her hands.

“Then, thank you,” he replied, not sure what else to say after her last remark.

*****

The following day, after promising to follow every instruction, Chakotay was finally allowed to go, albeit in an anti-grav chair rather than on his own feet, but at that point, he didn’t care. By then, all he wanted was to feel the sun on his face and breathe fresh air.

Once outside, Kathryn commed Starfleet HQ to beam them to her apartment. 

*****

Several hours later, after getting Chakotay settled in the guest room and the Doctor’s approval for his arrangement, Kathryn contacted Seven.

“I wanted to let you know,” she began, “that I have brought Chakotay home with me for the remainder of his recuperation. Would you like to come for a visit?”

There was a pause before Seven replied hesitantly. “I….am unsure, Admiral.” She hesitated again, then gathered herself. “But I should come. It is the proper thing to do when a friend is ill.”

“Seven, only if you’d like to. I don’t want – ”

“No,” Seven interrupted, “I am sure. Besides, I…we….need to have a conversation. When would be convenient?”

“Whenever you’re ready. I’m on leave now anyway, and Chakotay isn’t going anywhere.”

“Very well. Shall we say 1900 hours?”

“That will be fine, I’ll see you then. Janeway out.”

*****

On Seven’s arrival, Kathryn showed her into Chakotay’s room, then went to the kitchen to make tea and coffee. She knew he was aware of his subconscious rejection of Seven while in the hospital, and that he wanted to try to make amends, as well as resolve their relationship.

Giving them an extra few minutes, she waited, then picked up the tray and headed down the hall.

However, before she reached the door, Seven appeared. 

“Are you leaving already?” asked Kathryn.

“Chakotay and I have said everything to each other that we need to,” replied Seven, her back very straight. “However, I would like to speak to you for a few minutes, if I can.”

“Yes, of course.” Spinning on her heel, Kathryn reversed course. “Let’s go back to the kitchen. I’ll take Chakotay his tea and then be right with you.”

Picking up the cup, she took it into his room, where he was sitting propped up on several pillows, a somewhat bemused expression on his face.

“Are you okay?” she asked softly as she handed him the cup.

“Yeah, I think so.” He smiled slowly. “I think I just got dumped.”

“Oh. Okay. Uh….Seven wants to talk to me. I’m not sure how long I’ll be.”

“I’ll be fine and yes, you should talk to her. She’s….well, I’ll let her tell you.”

Her head whirling, Kathryn hurried back to the kitchen where she found Seven gazing abstractedly out the window.

“Come and sit down. Now, what do you want to discuss?”

“Firstly, I would like to apologize for coming between you and Chakotay. I realize now that I interfered in your relationship, which was not my intention.” She bowed her head momentarily before straightening once more. “No, that’s not entirely true. Deep down, I knew I was interfering but I allowed my desire to experience intimate feelings to overpower my conscience. For that, I am sorry, Admiral. I understand now that I caused you considerable distress, and I regret that I did not take your feelings into consideration.”

“Seven,” interjected Kathryn, holding up her hand, “don’t feel guilty and don’t regret what you have with Chakotay.”

“But my actions have hurt you and caused you pain.”

“Yes, they did but I have accepted that pain.” She smiled gently. “When you truly love someone, you put aside your feelings, for their sake. You and Chakotay both mean a great deal to me, and if you’re both happy, then I’m happy. Do you understand?”

Sighing, Seven looked down at the table. “I am not sure. And in any case, it is irrelevant as I have ended our romantic affiliation.” Her head came up as she looked straight at Kathryn. “When he lay in the hospital, crying your name over and over, I realized that he didn’t care for me as much as he thought. You are the one he loves, not me. It is only right that I step out of the way.”

“Oh, Seven,” whispered Kathryn, “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. I am looking forward, not back. I don’t regret my time with Chakotay but I must find my own path.”

“Do you know yet what you want to do?”

“Not yet. At the moment, I’m examining several possibilities.” She rose to her feet, then held out her hand. “You have given me so much, Admiral, let me give _you_ a future with Chakotay.”

There wasn’t much she could say, Kathryn realized, so she simply took Seven’s hand in hers, then pulled her into a quick hug. “Take care of yourself,” she told her, “and please, let me know what you decide. I don’t want to lose touch with you.”

Seven’s face broke into a soft smile. “Thank you. I will.” Turning on her heel, she strode to the door and was gone.

Standing in place, Kathryn pondered their conversation. _‘I hope it goes well for her,’_ she thought before walking back to Chakotay’s room.

As soon as he spotted her through the open door, he called out. “I thought I heard the front door close. What happened? Has Seven left?”

“Yes,” replied Kathryn, coming in to sit by his bedside. “She’s gone.” With a sigh, she took his hand. “She is a remarkable young woman, you know. And a very generous one.” Her eyes came up to bore into his. “She gave you back to me.”

However, Chakotay didn’t seem surprised. “Yeah, that’s what she said she would do.”

“And you’re all right with that?”

“Yes, pretty much. I’ll admit it was a bit daunting, but lying here after she left, I realize what I feel more than anything else is relief. I know now that I was an idiot to ever think a relationship between us could work in the long term. Especially since I have acknowledged what I should have done a long time ago.”

“And what’s that?”

He tightened his grip on her fingers. “It’s you I love, Kathryn, it always has been. It simply got….put aside for a while.”

“Seven years, you mean.”

“Yes. But now we’re here, without the pressure of ship and crew, no command protocols in sight, and what I’m seeing, and I hope you see, are all sorts of possibilities.”

Her mouth eased into a smile. 

“So, what do you say, Admiral? Care to explore with me?” He glanced at himself. “As soon as I’m set free of this bed, of course.”

Leaning forward, Kathryn bent to kiss him very gently. “I’d love to go exploring with you once they let you out.”

Chakotay heaved a happy sigh. “Good.”

*****

**Five years later:**

Kathryn entered the kitchen of the house she shared with Chakotay, a frown on her face as she examined the PADD in her hand.

Glancing up from the table where he was sorting the latest produce from the garden, Chakotay paused. “What is it?”

“It’s a message from Seven. Sorry, Annika, I keep forgetting she wants to be called that now.”

“She’s still on Vulcan at the Science Academy, isn’t she?”

“She was, but now she’s heading in a different direction.”

“Oh? What is she going to try now?”

“Not only a career change,” replied Kathryn in a puzzled voice, “but physically; she’s setting off for the Beta Quadrant.”

Now it was Chakotay’s turn to frown. “The Beta Quadrant! Why?”

“I’m not sure. All she says, and it’s a short message, is that she has found a new purpose, which is taking her to Fenris.”

“When does she leave?”

Kathryn looked up, her face suddenly very sad. “She’s already gone.”


End file.
